


Blind Heart

by IMtheDevil



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: F/M, a dash of romance, a wee bit of angst, that’s most of my stuff tbh, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMtheDevil/pseuds/IMtheDevil
Summary: Hyungwon x reader where Hyungwon is DJ H.One and a record store owner.Reader is written as an unnamed female.I stink at summaries—oops.Series title from “Blind Heart” by Cazzette





	1. Late Night

**Author's Note:**

> Reader’s perspective, 2nd POV
> 
> Chapter title from “Late Night” by Odesza

It was your seventh Friday in a row visiting the record shop. Something about the store drew you back, again and again. Whether it was the calm, steady stream of customers sifting through music of various origins and genres, or the relaxed aura created by the vinyl of choice from the shopkeeper—you weren’t sure. All you knew was that this was a safe haven for you to unwind and put the long week behind you. You usually went immediately after your afternoon class; the closing time on Fridays never seemed to be consistent. Which you did not mind, as you usually were gone just in time. At first you had considered bringing a friend along after class but promptly changed your mind. You decided to keep this gem hidden from your friends—this was yours, your sanctum.

The same employee was consistently there, as if he were a fixture of the store akin to the record player in the back and speakers strewn about the space. He never said anything as you made your purchases, and although his expression remained enigmatic, you sensed the silence arose more from indifference than rudeness.

This time he had his quintessential headphones on, one ear uncovered. He didn’t look up as you entered, engrossed in what he was listening to. The store was slower than usual, only a couple of patrons milled about the aisles. You smiled and began to determine what you were browsing for. You moved from rock to classical to pop to electronic—and settled on picking something there. An album stood out because you remembered seeing it on your friend’s social media page a couple of days ago. The artwork on the jacket was interesting, and the song names caught your attention. You thought about whether to ask if you could use one of the listening rooms to sample it.

“Uh…no.” The velvety voice startled you out of your reverie as you felt the vinyl slide out of your hands and was replaced by another. “I think you’ll like this one better.”

You turned to see him standing beside you.

“Come over here, I’ll let you listen.” He led you behind the counter where another record player stood. You scanned the store and noticed it was empty. Suddenly your cheeks were warm. He didn’t notice as he unhooked the speakers and connected his headphones. He gestured to the stool, and you sat.

The headphones enveloped your ears and you let the sound of the album wash over you. The stool was backless and your poor posture began to kick in. His hands gently grasped your shoulders and he let you lean back into him as you listened. Time slipped away, along with everything else as you sank into the music.

You didn’t know how long it had been when the needle lifted from the vinyl and he removed the headphones. Turning, you saw that the neon “open” sign in the window had been switched off.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you here past closing!” You jumped off of the stool and scurried around the counter.

“It’s fine.” He shrugged. “Do you want the album?”

“Yes—yes, please.” You were willing yourself to stop blushing, and you were failing. As you started to pull your wallet out, he lifted a hand to stop you.

“It’s on me.”

You stood there, mouth agape and shaking your head.

“No? This is how you can repay me.” He lifted a piece of paper about the size of your palm that was shaped like a heptagon and colored crimson red. “Go to this event. It’s tonight.”

You gently took the paper, fingertips brushing against his hand. It had an address and a time printed on it.

“I’ll see you there.” He started to walk away.

“But I don’t know your name.”

He turned, and you saw a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

“You will.”

...

You looked at the building. Then at your invitation. Then back at the building. Surely this dilapidated, above-ground train station was not where the event was taking place. Despite your hesitancy, you could see a line of people starting to snake around the corner. Disregarding your gut’s instinct protesting the location, you decided you’d better jump in line before you completely lost your nerve.

Fairly soon, you began to realize that you were not dressed appropriately. He had given no indication, no warning as to what to expect. You had left for the shop immediately after classes had ended for the day, and the distance between the record store and the station left you no time to change. Your cheeks refused to relinquish the heat that had found a home there. Before you could think about it much longer, you were at the door.

“ID and ticket.” The rather stocky man studied both then glanced to you, amused. “Enjoy.”

You were still bamboozled by his response as you left your belongings at the coat check—surprisingly free of charge—and slipped your phone and ticket into your pocket. You attempted to survey the interior as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Where to go? Should you find a seat, or stand somewhere close to the stage? The stage—a cloth-covered table held what looked like a metal box with several knobs and dials, various cables connecting the boxes to each other and to, what you assumed was, power. The cloth had a crimson logo: H.ONE; the E written with three parallel lines. A DJ set-up? A small venue concert. That’s what he invited you to. You started to wonder whether he would try to track you down inside—habit caused you to check your phone screen but, alas, you did not get his number before leaving the store. Great.

As your confusion continued to increase, someone approached you.

“May I help you find your seat?” You looked up at a person with “STAFF” emblazoned across their chest.

“Uh, yes please.” You handed her the ticket, and you were met with another strange response.

“Ah.” She grinned. “This allows you to enter the pit. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Sure…thank you.” You didn’t have any other words. Just questions. What was up with this ticket? Where was the guy that gave it to you? Why would the staff care if you would want anything? You decided you didn’t care. Enjoy the night, go home to sleep, and then return to your studies. Easy enough.

You were wending your way through the crowd when you heard cheers. The lights had dimmed further, accentuating the few remaining lights that were focused on the stage. The crush of bodies surrounding you moved together, stopping you from being closer to the stage. As you were finding your footing within the mass of people, there were excited screams. You looked up.

There he was. The record store worker. Wearing the same headphones that you utilized a mere hour and a half ago. Checking the mixers and syncing tracks. Searching the crowd. He met your inquisitive stare—and winked.

He was the most awake and attentive you’d ever seen. You could tell he was enjoying himself and the way he controlled the pulsating conglomeration of entities. He would layer phrases, build the beat steadily to a climax, and then smile knowingly at the reaction it would elicit. At some point, you ceased analyzing him and merged with the crowd and the sound.

When things started to wind down, the same staff person that directed you into the pit asked you to follow her. You assumed the worst—someone had stolen your things or the ticket you had was a prank—you weren’t sure, but you knew tonight was too perfect. Instead of leading you to the coat check or the door, you realized she was taking you to an area to the side of the stage. When she stopped you at the edge of the curtains that hid the backstage area, you could almost see what he saw—the audience’s reactions to the music that he was crafting in the moment.

He finally let the music trail away and waved as he left the platform—ignoring cries for an encore. His eyes betrayed his mind, his gaze was focused on you.

He smiled down at you.

“My name is Hyungwon.”


	2. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyungwon’s perspective, 3rd POV

Hyungwon flexed his stiff fingers and rolled his head on his shoulders, popping his joints. He had been stationary for a while, trapped by his project and her legs.

Although they were working on separate things, they liked to be together on the couch. She was propped up against the armrest, her calves resting on his thighs. He had bought a lap desk after she protested to the direct heat from his laptop on her skin for hours at a time. They both had headphones on; hers probably emitting some sort of ambience music he had picked to help her focus and his containing the latest mix he was perfecting.

He snuck a glance at her, unsurprised when she didn’t look up. She had this obsessive concentration on her work that amazed him. Whereas he needed to move and change his setting from time to time, she could lock into her studies and not come up for air. Maybe it was better she wasn’t paying attention to him, Hyungwon mused. When she looked at him, even when she was escaping the grasp of sleep, it was as if she could cut through his bullshit with a glance. He couldn’t hide anything from her, even if he wanted to.

Hyungwon spent as much of his time as possible with her. There wasn’t a lot of it, between his gigs, his store, and his sleep. Although he did share those with her too—if her school work wasn’t in the way. She was in her final year of earning her degree, the last major hurdle in the fall semester was a project that would be presented at a local conference. Whenever Hyungwon would ask her about it, her eyes would light up as she ran through her theories and research with him. He didn’t remember much about the topic, just the animated way she moved her hands and the grin that would stretch across her face.

He was continually astounded at how she fit in with his quirks and he with hers. Their sleep schedules were shoddy at best, yet magically seemed to be synced to each other. She was always comfortable in the silence he would create when lost in a train of thought; usually she would just let her eyes rest on him as she waited patiently for what he would say next. If he said anything at all.

On occasion he would wake up in the middle of the night, for no reason at all, and he would be unable to fall back asleep. Before her, these episodes were the worst—staring up at the dull, beige ceiling, no sound or sight to keep him occupied. Now, he would use the quiet to listen to the rhythm of her breath and absorb the warmth emitting from her back and beg sleep to keep its distance. It was one of those moments a few days ago that he truly understood what she was to him. She was his home.

Hyungwon lightly traced a finger across the sole of her foot. Instantly, she squirmed and yelped. A pillow bounced off of his shoulder.

“There are other ways of getting my attention.” She giggled. “Did you need something?”

His gaze trailed upward to those probing eyes.

 “You. I need all of you.”


	3. Fracture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: briefest mention of alcohol. Also, here cometh the angst.
> 
> This chapter is split between the reader’s and Hyungwon’s perspectives (2nd and 3rd POV, respectively) as indicated by a line.

It was finally here. The day you had been dreading and excitedly awaiting at the same time. Months of hard work and sleepless nights culminated to this one moment. Well, if you were being honest, this one block of two hours. You knew the time would stretch and bend in unusual ways while you and your project were on display for scrutiny and discussion. Your outfit was picked, pressed, and ready to go. You knew exactly how to get there and when you needed to leave. The only thing you weren’t sure about was Hyungwon.

Yesterday, you had reminded him of the duration that you would be with your poster inside the exhibition hall. Just to be sure, you also left sticky notes in key locations—door of the fridge, mirror in the bathroom, backside of the front door. He would be hard pressed to claim he had forgotten when he was supposed to show up. You also texted him the address so that all he had to do was plug it into his phone’s GPS to make it there. Those were the only possible stumbling blocks you could think of. With everything in place, you left.

It didn’t take long to set up, so you didn’t have to wait before your time slot arrived and attendees were ambling about the hall. Every time someone walked up, your breath would catch. It would only be a fellow academic asking about your sources or your variables. Despite that their silhouettes refused to match his shape, your heart would leap nonetheless. After about an hour, your parents had stopped by, they had checked out your work and insisted on taking pictures of you with it. Just in case, you hadn’t told your parents that he would come to see your project on display. You didn’t want to raise any bars they already had in mind about him. As the time frame drew to a close, you knew you made the right decision. He wasn’t showing up.

Disappointment vibrated through your chest as you breathed. You couldn’t quite process what happened, so you decided not to head home just yet. There was a place nearby you’d go to after stopping by the record store on Fridays—at least before you met Hyungwon. You took a seat at the bar, noting the bartender’s nod in your direction. They were used to you, knowing what you needed without even asking. You noted the mood of the establishment as you settled in—the boisterous holiday crowd did nothing to lift your spirits. In fact, it made you even more irritated. You should be celebrating. You should be celebrating with him, after he saw your achievement.

The anger began to build as you sat there, thinking about all of the little things that annoyed you about him. There were those little sassy, sarcastic comments that he would make to no end. At first you found them to be cute, until they started to chafe with their abrasiveness. When you’d talk to him about it, he’d have no idea what you meant and therefore wouldn’t stop quipping at you.

Motion at your side gained a sidelong glance—Hyungwon had climbed into the seat next to you.

You took a sip of your drink, not wanting to be the first to give in to speaking.

“Hey.” His silky voice seemed unusually low to you. “I thought I might find you here.”

Your glass thunked onto the counter.

“I wish you had found me sooner.”

“I know.” He laid a hand over yours. “I didn’t wake up in time to make it.”

You pulled your hand away to massage your temples.

“Did you not see my notes? Or my text?”

“Of course I did—I just knew when I woke up I wouldn’t make it in time. I’m sorry for oversleeping.”

“Hyungwon, it’s not that you overslept, it’s that you didn’t even try,” you sighed as you took a gulp of your drink.

“Why should I try if I knew I was going to be late? That’s just as bad.”

“We’ll never know, will we?” You started to reach for your jacket.

The bartender turned and flicked her eyes between you and Hyungwon.

“You okay, hon?”

“Yeah, just add it to my tab, please.” You grabbed your bag as she nodded.

You could feel Hyungwon’s eyes boring holes in your back but sensed no movement behind you.

Fine. He could rot there.

 

* * *

 

At first, his mind was on fire as his eyes glared at her retreating figure. Rage coursed through his being. Did she not realize just how much he did for her? The later nights, the longer days. He sacrificed for her. She could be infuriating. Sometimes she would speak to him in that way of hers, words falling from her mouth as she spoke from her place on the mountaintop. He wasn’t stupid. Just didn’t go to school like she did. He didn’t need to—he was just fine learning everything by doing. She always said she didn’t care about his lack of a degree past high school, but a part of him wouldn’t let that doubt die—it festered in the far reaches of his psyche.

As the flames eventually turned into embers, he felt the cold. Not just the absence of her in his bed, but the dimness that crept into the edges of his vision. The gray tone that overtook his clothes. The faint buzz in the background of the music he tried to mix. He hadn’t had a concert in weeks. At first, only a few concerned messages trickled into his inbox. None from her, of course. His fans and staff knew a few weeks of hiatus wasn’t out of the norm. He would flit in and out of inspiration and found performing without it a pointless charade. Once a couple of months had passed, he was flooded with queries and supportive tirades. He couldn’t respond to any of them. Just looking at their questions brought thoughts of her crashing through his barrier, haphazardly wrought though it was.

Hyungwon tried to find solace in his store. Only a handful of customers knew about his other life, so he largely avoided awkward inquiries. Thankfully, his feigned nonchalance fought off most of them without much effort. The guilt of what he should have done to rectify the divide between them weighed him down. He replayed things he said, things he should have said. Hyungwon didn’t expect to hear from her again. Yet he found himself darting his head toward the door every time he heard it rustle, whether it was late Friday afternoon or not. He was lost without his ritual.

He was stocking the back of the store where the discount vinyl were sent to live out their final days when he heard it. He could never mistake the light and airy tone to her laugh. He gripped the edge of the display rack and took a deep breath before turning around.

 


	4. True Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “True Feeling” by Galantis
> 
> Reader’s perspective, 2nd POV

~~~~About a week after the fight, everything turned sour. Your habits changed with the sudden amount of free time on your hands. You buried yourself in your studies, determined to become a master at your subject as there were no distractions holding you back. When that began to fade, you tried submerging yourself into your music. Nothing worked. You had this void that you couldn’t fill regardless of what you tried to stuff into it.

You had turned down offers for dates—still wary of the hole in your heart. You also weren’t quite sure about whatever this thing was or wasn’t between you and Hyungwon. Too much time had passed without speaking, so you felt awkward whenever you thought about discussing it with him. You just wanted to know where you stood. It didn’t feel like it was entirely over, but that could just be wishful thinking.

Part of you wanted to find a way to be close to him without him knowing. Sneaking into one of the concerts was what you had in mind, but you found out that he didn’t have any scheduled. You were worried about him yet still could not find it in you to reach out. What you said, what you thought—those things couldn’t be easily erased or forgiven.

Your closest classmate had noticed your constant, dreary attitude and decided to do something about it. She insisted that she had a surprise for you after class, somewhere that she knew would lift your spirits. After weeks of incessant invitations, she succeeded as you begrudgingly acquiesced.

At first, you were so distracted by her cheerful, bubbly chattering that you had no idea where she was taking you. It was when you turned down a familiar street that your heart dropped. You considered turning tail and getting out of there—feigning some sort of illness or emergency. But then, the fact that you knew about this place but didn’t say anything about it to her might make her upset. You couldn’t decide what to do. She sensed your inner struggle and took hold of your arm.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just—I just forgot to do next week’s assignment, that’s all.” You hoped the flimsy excuse would hold up.

“Oh, you’ve got all weekend for that. Don’t worry about it!” She lightly slapped your arm before letting go. You sighed quietly, surprised that it worked.

“We’re here!” She gestured up toward the sign of the shop. “I have a feeling you will LOVE this store. I remembered seeing all of the vinyl you own.”

You pushed a smile to your face as she opened the door, darting your eyes to the counter at the front. No one sat behind it, and you relaxed a little. Maybe one of the part-timers worked today and he had the day off.

“I’m just glad you didn’t instantly label me a hoarder,” you laughed.

“Never!” She grinned. Suddenly she turned to you and whispered. “Don’t look now but there’s a guy in the back of the store that’s trying to not stare at you.”

You didn’t look. You knew who it was without needing to check. She misread your blush and began to walk away.

“I’ll be over here.” She said a little too loudly.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you decided to become fascinated with the new releases displayed at the front of the store. You longed to be anywhere but there. Your heart twinged with discomfort—maybe you needed some fresh air and a moment to think before—

“Hey.”

Too late. A shiver rolled down your spine against your wishes. Why did one syllable have such an effect on you?

“Hi.” Never one to be rude, you replied but didn’t turn around. There was a pause in which you felt a year pass.

“I missed you.” The raw emotion in Hyungwon’s voice made you close your eyes and clench your jaw. In a flash you saw everything—the relationship, the fight, the abyss that your heart refused to climb out of. Would it be worth it to possibly go through everything again? You took a steadying breath.

“I missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @monmaddie  
> Monbebe Amino: I.M the Devil


End file.
